Before the frost

There is a girl who almost remembers things.  She remembers things the way someone who is about to remember a name suddenly forgets it again.  Like sea waves in early spring that almost roll onto your toes but stop just a few inches shy and then return to the sea, as you both long for the feel of the water covering your skin and yet exhale relief because the water is so very cold.

The awareness of you        the moon creeping into your eyes

when I come home will I still feel this alone                  will you build me a ladder out of

the sky